


This Isn't My Idea

by razielim



Series: Merry Smutmas 2018 [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Consummation Confirmation, First Time, Forced Marriage, M/M, Ritual Public Sex, Rival Sex, Unwilling Fiances, consummation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razielim/pseuds/razielim
Summary: Prince Keith and Prince James have been Not Friends ever since they could remember. Finding out about their betrothal only fanned the flames of their passionate dislike for each other. The wedding night finally arrives, and after a whirlwind feast and ball, they end up glaring at each other in bed, their entire extended families on the other side of the bed’s curtains, impatiently awaiting proof of consummation…





	This Isn't My Idea

Keith resisted the urge to dig his heels in. He could walk on his own and didn’t need to be pushed and shoved to the bedchamber by a dozen overeager relatives.

“Could you _not_ cause a scene?” James whispered through the din of drunken revelry.

“ _How_ am I causing a scene?” Keith demanded, immediately incensed. James couldn’t last five minutes without finding something to criticize him for.

“Just walk freaking normally. I don’t want to be here either, but you don’t see people needing to _drag_ me, do you?”

Keith was ready to breathe fire. He was _trying_ to walk normally, damnit. He viciously ripped his elbow out of his uncle’s grasp and sped up, determined to get to the marital bed before he murdered his _dear husband_.

Not to be outdone, James matched his speed, picking up the skirt of his silk kaftan and shoving Keith as he passed. Keith stuck out his foot and James stumbled as they both barrelled down the hall with long aggressive strides. Laughter broke out behind them and Keith frowned, letting James win a small lead as he focused his attention on the bridal party that trailed behind them.

“I always knew those two were secretly lusting after one another,” slurred James’s Granduncle Iverson between guffaws. “Look at them go, eager as anything. We’re in for a long night of witness duty!”

Everyone laughed louder and Keith flushed, realizing what they’d looked like, power walking out ahead of their entourage. Ahead of him, James’s head had whipped around and he was staring back at Iverson with deep disgust, his ears red.

James turned to glare at him.

“What?” Keith hissed as they slowed down to let the crowd gain on them. “It’s your own fault. We were walking _fine_ before you had to get all critical again.”

Granduncle Iverson, who’d insisted that Keith call him that since the day he and James had been promised to each other as children, ran up behind them. “What’s the slow-down? Suddenly so modest!” He gave Keith’s ass a good pinch, and Keith jerked in alarm. From the corner of his eye, he saw James jump and blush furiously, getting his own unwelcome pinch.

This would be much easier if he was old enough to have gotten drunk at his own damn wedding feast rather than been cut off after a single glass of wine. If they were old enough to marry, they were certainly old enough to get as drunk as the members of their bridal party.

They were alarmingly close to the bedchamber now and Keith had to fight down the feast that threatened to make a reappearance as the grand golden doors loomed taller. This would be his and James’s shared room for the rest of their lives. Anywhere they would travel from now on, any keep that they would stay at, would always put them in the same apartments, provide them one bed to share. His stomach twisted further.

And then they had arrived at the doors, and he and James both stared at their decorated surface in horror.

“Go on!” growled Admiral Kolivan somewhere behind them.

“Don’t forget to join hands, dears,” reminded Queen Krolia, stumbling up to join Granduncle Iverson and pulling their hands together.

James’s fingers were sweaty and too hot against his own, and Keith tried to keep his grip as loose as possible. James was viciously glaring again, so when his mother turned back to the crowd to urge James’s parents closer, Keith stepped on his foot. James kicked his shin, their kaftans and the growing press of the crowd hiding their altercation.

“Go in already!” someone shouted.

There was no avoiding it. They were being pushed and shoved into the very doors themselves, elbows and chaos and confusion behind them blocking off all escape. Still shooting each other dirty looks, Keith and James put their hands on the handles and swung the doors in.

Immediately, they were pushed over the threshold, so many hands grabbing at them and directing them through the inner doorways, past silk curtains, furniture, and portraits that now belonged to the two of them. A great cheer went up as the bed came into sight, and the crowd lifted them into the air. Disoriented, Keith clung to James’s hand, flinching from Uncle Antok laughing too loud right next to his ear.

Then they were heaved onto the bed and Keith let go of James’s hand with a pained groan as he landed wrong. Next to him, James hissed, also massaging his hand. The heavy velvet curtains were whipped closed behind them, hiding them from view and blocking most of the light, but people kept pushing their shoulders through the fabric, nudging them into the center as a huge cheer went up at finally getting the newlyweds in place, embellished with whistles and catcalls.

Keith crawled past James, hands and knees sinking into the mattress, more vast and luxurious than even _he_ was used to, to put his back to the headboard and stare out with grim horror at the three curtains that boxed them in. Distorted shapes outlined in the bright light of the room shook with laughter, pumped fists into the air, clapped encouragingly. He heard his mother and father laughing about their own wedding night, drunkenly sharing details he did not want to hear. Sometimes… being royalty had absolutely nothing to do with being graceful or refined.

Someone slapped the curtain to his left repeatedly.

“Oi, are you two undressing? Let’s see some clothes!”

The demand to see clothes was picked up emphatically all around the room, and Keith buried his face in his hands.

Something soft hit his shin. Looking up, he saw that James had taken a shoe off and thrown his sock at him.

“Hurry up,” James grumped, working on his other shoe.

Keith threw James’s sock at the bed curtains, where excited hands immediately buried under the curtain to extract it and show it off to everyone. There were more cheers, and then he heard Granduncle Iverson yelling.

“A sock! What, you two suddenly not excited to tear each other’s clothes off? Strip like you mean it, boys!”

James looked about to cry as he stood to pull off his kaftan. Outside, Granduncle Iverson launched into the story of how he had completely forgotten to take his socks off during his own consummation ceremony. Keith gave out a silent roar of frustration, hands like claws in front of him, shaking the air with impotent fury. James looked over in alarm.

“Remind me again,” Keith whispered savagely as he finally pushed off from the headboard and wrestled his arms out of his sleeves, “why _any_ of this is necessary. What _possible_ use is there to us consummating this marriage?”

“You’re asking _me?_ ” James whispered back just as viciously, tossing his kaftan at the curtain to the delight of the gathered crowd.

Keith stood too, glowering, and the two of them continued undressing in furious silence, venting their frustration by pelting their clothes at the bridal party.

It was only when the last piece of fabric had been snatched away by greedy witnesses that Keith’s anger drained, and he suddenly realized that he and James were standing naked with the looming expectation that both of them touch each other. Nausea rose once more. His throat closed up, and he stared at James’s naked body with a sense of growing disassociation. Was he really here? Was he really going to do this? Was there really no way out?

“Stop staring,” James whispered, turning to face him fully and angrily jamming his hands onto his hips.

“Oh, right,” Keith agreed, “I’m just going to grope around _blind_ the whole time.”

“Like you’d know what you were doing any better with your eyes open.”

Keith’s face burned. “Oh, and _you’re_ such an expert?”

James opened his mouth to retort, closed it, and turned his face away to stare into a dark corner as he crossed his arms.

“You’re pouting again, James,” Keith pointed out. “You sure you’re old enough for all this? Maybe we should wait until your _next_ birthday?”

“I am _not_ pouting, and I’m not the dumbass that spent a whole year being an adult without getting even a little action. I only turned of age last week, what’s _your_ excuse for staying a virgin?”

Keith shoved him hard on the shoulder, and James stumbled before recovering and shoving back. Keith easily absorbed it without budging.

“You know I had no choice in the matter,” Keith hissed, dropping his voice lower as the crowd outside their bed started to settle somewhat. “I had to wait for my _blushing bride_ to reach adul—”

James squared up with him, wearing a fierce scowl. “Call me a blushing bride again, I dare you —”

“Sure thing, my blu—”  

“Ey, ey!” came the voice of Admiral Kolivan from somewhere behind James, booming over all other noise. “Are you fucking in there or having a nice chat? Should we pass you a pot of tea and some more wedding cake while you talk about your _feelings_ , girls?”

The entourage grew boisterous again, pounding on the curtains, yelling lewd instructions at them.

James and Keith stared at each other, all maliciousness deflating. James’s throat bobbed conspicuously as he swallowed. Keith’s breath felt short. He inhaled sharply and hoped his shaking wasn’t obvious.

“My grandmother said they’ll check inside afterward,” James whispered urgently, leaning close to Keith’s ear, “to make sure. I asked; I said that only made sense for women, but she said it was the same in the interest of fairness.”

When James pulled away and their eyes met, Keith realized he’d never seen his eyes so wide and defenseless.

“Yeah,” Keith said slowly, “Kolivan said the same thing.”

James seemed to fall apart at those words, and Keith wished he could rescind the confirmation.

As poorly as they’d always gotten along, as imbecilic, unnecessary, pretentious, and downright annoying as James and every single one of his actions were… seeing him look scared was unsettling.

“S-she said we’d have to decide between the two of us which would be the bride, but t-that, t-that…”

James broke off, face pale, staring at the wall behind Keith and seemingly unable to face the words he’d been about to speak.

“But what?” Keith asked, unnerved further, and well aware that the bridal party was again growing quiet and restless.

James groaned, shutting his eyes and rubbing his face roughly. Then, hands still slowly dragging down his face, he said in a low rush, “That the choice was obvious, since I’m younger, and… and…” He trailed off in anguish, covering his eyes and gesturing to his own height, then to Keith’s, pointing out the difference with growing agitation. Finally, he sat down hard on the bed with a loud puff of noise from the covers and groaned loudly.

A cheer rose up outside.

Ignoring the misunderstanding, Keith kneeled at his side.

“Is that how these things are typically settled?” he asked quietly, trying to get a glimpse of James’s face. “I thought we’d… wrestle for it. Flip a coin.”

James punched him hard in the shoulder. “Like you really thought that. Shut up. I know everyone thinks it ought to be me. Even Father said —” he broke off shuddering, gave Keith a disgusted look, and then punched him again for good measure.

Keith rubbed his sore shoulder, put out.

“I don’t think that it has to be you,” he mumbled. “Everyone else might, but I didn’t realize it mattered which one of us was taller and older.”

“It _shouldn’t_ matter!” James hissed, revitalized with anger. He made to punch Keith again, but Keith deflected it.

“Well, obviously it matters to _you_ , so we’ll do it the other way around. Just stop punching me, damnit. This night sucks enough without being covered in bruises.”

“What ‘other way around?’” James asked with a condescending sneer, his fist still ready to strike.

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’ll be ‘the bride,’ genius. Now hurry up before they start being weird out there again.”

James didn’t do anything but stare at him as Keith pushed his shoulders and knocked him right over.

He looked at James’s dick, completely soft and uninterested. He glanced self-consciously up at James, knowing this would earn him nothing but ridicule and insults when James recovered from the whole affair. Keith licked his fingers and reached forward to loosely stroke the flaccid dick. James yelped and smacked his hand away. Laughter echoed from the bridal party.

“I’ll do it myself, you weirdo,” James grunted, frowning deeply as he grabbed his own dick. “You seriously _want_ to be the bride?”

Keith’s exasperation reached peak levels. “Well, _someone_ has to! I don’t want to be trapped here all night because neither of us wants to make the first move, and you seem to have a whole entire complex about it, so I’m doing what I must!” He folded his arms and sat back against the headboard again, refusing to look at James. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“...Alright,” James whispered so quietly that Keith almost missed it.

They sat in silence, ignoring the jeering coming from around the bed, and avoiding looking at each other. Keith stared at the shadows playing across the surface of the curtains, waiting patiently while James jerked himself off.

He heard James sigh and out of the corner of his eye saw him lift his other hand to help speed things along, but steadfastly avoided looking. Now and then, the crowd in their bedroom would grow quiet, someone loudly hissing, “Shh! Sh-sh!” until everyone stopped talking and pressed close to overhear the marital consummation. Each time that they didn’t hear Keith and James making any noise, they would resume complaining and drunkenly gossipping. Keith could hear servants making the rounds, refilling wine goblets, and offering finger foods. The party continued, and only James and Keith grew ever more miserable.

He felt someone watching him, and jerked to look back at James, who immediately averted his gaze.

“What?” he asked, tired and unhappy that this was taking so long.

“Nothing,” James replied, pouting, likely unaware he was doing it. “Just thought it would help.”

“Help?”

“I don’t know, it’s not — I don’t know.” James deflated, and Keith looked down to see that he was hard, but only barely, despite furiously administering attention with both hands.

He bit his tongue against making any rude comments. It was so tempting to get his own licks in — _James_ never passed an opportunity to criticize him — but lashing out would solve exactly nothing in this situation. Inhaling sharply through his teeth, he steeled himself for what had to happen.

“Move your hands,” he ordered, and without waiting for James to comply, crawled off the pillow he was sat on and lowered his face down to nuzzle James’s knuckles.

James certainly moved his hands, but only out of surprise, with a loud yelp. Keith made a deliderate choice not to think twice about wrapping his lips around James’s cockhead and sucking. When James didn’t immediately retaliate with violence, Keith added his hands to the mix, his thumb thickly massaging at the frenulum. _At least James doesn’t know any better than I do how this should be done_ , he thought, trying to come up with mental images of how he’d want this done to himself.

Keith must have been doing well enough because James’s sullen cock responded, filling out and stiffening. He stopped sucking and sat up, still gripping James firmly and massaging the head.

James looked considerably more dazed than he had a minute ago. Spots of color stained his cheekbones, and his glassy eyes followed the motion of Keith’s tongue as Keith licked his lips. Their eyes met.

“What’s the best way to do this, do you think?” Keith asked, both relieved and unnerved by James’s newfound interest.

James’s gaze slipped over Keith’s body quickly, snapping back to Keith’s eyes with a hint of guilt. “Lie down on your stomach, I think.”

Not having any opinion to the contrary, Keith did so, right where he was. His knees on the pillows, it was uncomfortable, but moving any closer would bring his face closer to the crowd. James had just started to crawl onto him when Keith decided that this was ridiculous.

“Hold on, I don’t like this,” he whispered quickly, getting up to turn on the spot and face the right way on the bed.

“What do you mean, _you don’t like this?_ I’m _not_ going to switch with you, and if —”

“James, shut up,” he said, lying back down, head cushioned in his arms on a large pillow. “No one’s making you switch. Now hurry up.”

James hesitated a moment before throwing a leg over Keith’s hips. A large warm hand came to rest in the small of his back, and Keith heard James spit, then stroke himself wetly. Keith buried his face in a pillow — he could still hear people complaining about not hearing them fuck. This was all so humiliating and unnecessary. If he were next in line for the throne, he’d have drawn up an abolishment to this travesty of a tradition years ago. Maybe he still would; slip it into his brother’s pile of papers…

He bit his lip and and tensed as James’s cock prodded his ass.

“Damnit, Keith, you need to —”

“Shut up,” Keith cut James off. “How about you let me try to relax without you nagging me?”

He heaved an aggravated sigh, felt a little better, and sighed again. Slowly, his rim twitched back to a relaxed position against the hot press of James’s cock. As soon as James pushed in, however, his hole tensed again, squeezing James all the way back out.

“ _Keith!_ ”

“ _James!_ ” Keith mocked. “I thought I said to shut up.”

He relaxed again. James pressed in again. He was able to let James in one small push at a time, both of them silent and focused, James waiting for Keith’s body to cue him when to push, Keith trying to talk his body into accepting this as the new normal. Not that there was anything “normal” about feeling like you needed to empty your bowels and then doing the exact opposite.

“I still can’t believe they’re making us do this,” Keith muttered quietly. “Of all the nonsense… there’s nothing _useful_ about us figuring out how to make this work.”

James grunted in agreement, his hips twitching a little. He thrust suddenly, pushing deep with a choked off moan, and Keith jerked in alarm.

“What the hell, James?” he asked, looking over his shoulder to see James grimacing and waving him off, panting hard.

“Your turn to shut up, Keith,” James hissed, heaving a deep breath and sagging.

Keith stared.

“Come on!” yelled Granduncle Iverson outside the curtain. “Stop cuddling in there and get to the steamy moaning!”

There was a lot of angry assent while Keith contemplated murder.

James pulled out, still breathing heavy.

“There,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “Get them to go away.”

“Wait,” Keith propped himself up gingerly on one elbow, uncertain about what may or may not happen if he sat up. “Are you done?”

James nodded, ears and cheeks red.

“Oh…” Keith blinked at him, having trouble registering that they’d reached the end of their troubles so soon. “Oh,” he said again, “well… thank _god_.”

He swung his other leg out around James, and crawled backwards, still unsure whether standing would make a mess. He kicked lightly at the velvet curtain, drawing gasps and forcing people back, then slid his feet to the floor, reaching back to hitch the curtain up. Biting his lip in confused concentration, he pushed until he felt a small, warm trickle roll out of him.

There was a lot of silence.

“Happy?” he asked loudly, not even bothering to hide his great irritation with the circumstances as his neck and shoulders burned with humiliation.

Then the bridal party exploded into pandemonium. Those who had been on the other side of the bed stampeded over to see what was happening, those who were too far away elbowed and kicked to come closer, and those who could see perfectly had a lot to say.

“Is that Prince _Keith?_ I thought it would be Prince _James!_ ”

“I didn’t hear a single thing! That was the most boring consummation I’ve ever witnessed!”

“My _god_ , if that’s what it’s like, I wouldn’t be caught dead fooling around with anyone that doesn’t have tits. I thought they’d fallen asleep in there!”

“But why was Prince Keith the bride? I thought he was the dark-haired, taller one? Or was that Prince James?”

“No, that’s Prince Keith; this doesn’t make any sense. Maybe our bride’s backside just looks like Prince Keith but actually belongs to Prince James?”

“I think it’s for the best those two were married off to each other. Not a moan the entire time. Can you imagine marrying your daughter to one of them? She’d be _miserable_.”

Keith had had enough.

He pushed the curtain back over his legs and climbed away from the edge. More complaints came from the witnesses, all of them admonishing him for not letting everyone get a good look, but Keith didn’t care anymore, furious that he’d been forced into this, and furious that his reward for making it work against all odds was more criticism.

He lay down facing away from James and crossed his arms, barely restraining himself from yelling at the entourage. The unpleasant commentary didn’t stop, and the only thing keeping Keith sane was that he didn’t hear his parents’ voices among the others. If they’d joined in, he would have found a way to set the whole palace on fire. Behind him, he felt James lie down too. The two of them lay in silence, listening and waiting for the crowd to disperse.

It took a long time.

Bored and outraged, their bridal party trickled out only very slowly to continue the party elsewhere. As they went, they voiced vicious suspicions about why Keith had taken the role of bride, why James should have been the bride, and why neither was good enough for any other marriage.

“This time tomorrow,” Keith murmured, “the whole of both kingdoms will be in agreement. They’ll have each other convinced that we were betrothed because even at a young age our parents could tell there was something wrong with us.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” James whispered back.

His voice sounded like he was facing Keith, and not too far away. Curious, ignoring the gooey way his ass felt, Keith shifted around to face James. He’d been right.

Their eyes met for a while, then they looked away, each still thinking his own morose thoughts as the room’s echoes finally started to sound more hollow. There were a lot of footsteps on hardwood floor echoing in from the sitting room. At long last, the last of the voices disappeared from their bedroom, joining the hum of retreating conversations.

A servant announced he was leaving a fresh wash basin for them, robes were laid out, all their other clothes had all been hung in their new wardrobes, and that a repast was laid out in the sitting room should they want it.

Then the door clicked shut, and Keith and James were alone as a married pair for the first time.

Their eyes met again.

“Thank you,” James whispered.

“What for?”

“For being the bride.”

“Oh.”

Keith looked away with an awkward sniff.

“I’ve been scared of tonight for three years,” James continued, drawing Keith’s attention again. He was toying with the tassel of a decorative pillow and not meeting Keith’s eyes. “Grandmother Sanda first brought it up on my fourteenth birthday, during breakfast with the family. I’d just finished opening my presents, and they all… started talking about how I’d have to be the bride, since you were older and it was already obvious I wouldn’t grow up to be as tall. All my brothers and sisters, all my uncles and their wives and their children, all there, all talking about it or listening. The whole family. Talking about how much it would hurt, how most of them would never do such a thing, how maybe it would be tolerable if I relaxed, and that I better hope you were gentle.”

Keith stared in horror.

James sniffed, his voice turning more gruff as if to cover for the weakness he’d revealed. “So it… it meant a lot. That you… you did that.”

Keith didn’t have words. He nodded.

After a few minutes, he finally managed — “It didn’t hurt much. Not at all, really. Just felt weird.”

“Oh.”

“And er… I think it’s _supposed_ to feel good if you’re with someone you want to be with,” he continued awkwardly. “I don’t know why your family was weird about it. I, uh… Frankly, I wasn’t worried about that part at all. So I’m… I’m glad I was able to do that for you.”

James kicked him, and Keith looked up, alarmed, only to find him blushing.

“It felt good on _my_ end,” James muttered, face gloomy. “I feel like I owe you one.”

“Owe me one what?”

James shrugged.

After a few minutes, James spoke up again. “I could return the favor. Not the… but you sucked me, and I could return the favor.”

Keith felt himself flush furiously.

“James,” he breathed, “We’re married for _political_ reasons — we don’t have to fuck ever again. I appreciate the gesture, but you can just find me an appropriate gift.”

“Right, of course,” James said quickly, propping himself up on one elbow, “I get that. But we’re still not supposed to sleep with anyone but each other, right? I don’t know if I want to be celibate forever! It’s bad enough being married to _you_ , but we’re… are we not supposed to get _anything_ out of it?”

“Oh.”

James had a point. Was it alright to commit adultery if your marriage was a sham? How did one even go about finding a lover? He’d always been so wrapped up in the knowledge that he was already betrothed, that he’d never even looked at anyone else. What was even the point of adultery if the person knew you couldn’t leave your spouse? Keith sat up, confused. He’d never really imagined his life after marriage or been interested in pursuing anyone.

“S-so, would you want me to return the favor?” James asked again.

Keith laughed nervously. “Right now, I just want to clean up and check out our new rooms, maybe open a bottle of champagne. Maybe some other time?”

“Right! Some other time,” James said, nodding fervently and rolling quickly off the bed like he was glad to escape his own offer.

Keith watched him pulling back the curtains around the bed, eyes catching on smooth muscle. Something in his chest stirred for the first time.

 _Perhaps_ , Keith thought as he realized that he liked what he saw when James wasn’t needling him, _perhaps his offer_ is _the key to imagining life after marriage_.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more ficlets, imagines, sketches, and paintings on my pillowfort, [razielim](https://www.pillowfort.io/razielim), where I've currently set up residence. Adults only.
> 
> You can also [download all of Smutmas as a PDF](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1oh9x41sqzm-WUpeUA9g942ioQpmd1n77/view?usp=sharing) this year! :D


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